All Roses have Thorns
by jyinx136
Summary: Rose had a normal life. Parents, siblings, friends, the lot. But one day, she comes home to find her family dead, and evil tainting her house. Then Voldemort finds her. When the Order of the Phoenix rescues her, she begins to uncover her past. Time p
1. Chapter 1

So, this is my story. It's a HP spin-off. (well, obviously) Anyway, let me know it it sucks, doesn't suck, whatever.

She walked over a bridge, her breath coming out in short, painful gasps. Rose watched the water flowing far beneath her, splashing, rushing over the rocks far below. She looked up to the sky. The clouds above, a stormy gray, in a chaotic arrangement, only dampened her mood. The glowing street lamp illuminated the ground before her. She stopped. Tears poured form her eyes as she thought about her family's death.

She had come home from school that evening to see her mother, lying in a pool of blood. Her blood. She called out for her sister. "Mary, Mary, where are you? Dad? Dad!" She stumbled across his body, his face white, gaunt with fear. His blank eyes were staring at something over her shoulder. She turned quickly, nothing was there. In her sister's room, Mary lay on the floor, her teddy bear clutched in her arms, tears on her face. Rose stood there, numb, silent. She heard the front door open. Footsteps on the stairs, her instincts screaming for her to run! Forcing her muscles to move, Rose fled. As she left the house, insane laugher rang in her ears. "You can run, but you can't hide!"

She had to get away! Evil in that house, the house that was not her house, now a place of evil. She tripped on the curb, sprawling into the street. Her knee stung, and her face. Her shirt was ripped on her stomach and forearm. But she didn't even notice. Not even able to form a coherent thought, she ran to the river.

Standing there, leaning over the railing. Tears pouring into the river like rain, catching on her auburn hair. Harsh, cold, unforgiving. What had happened? She had calmed down a little, not much. Taking deep breaths, one step at a time, calming herself down. Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned.

Outside of the ring of light, two red eyes glowed. The figure walked slowly into the light, portraying a tall, skinny figure with skin so pale that it couldn't have seen the sun in years. He was holding a wand in his long, slender fingers. He had a maniacal smirk on his lips that didn't quite speak of madness. He stopped walking.

"Well, well, little Rose, you've run out of places to hide." He stood there, waiting for her to say something. She remained silent, staring at him with numb eyes. Looking up now, she could see for the first time a green skull with a serpent protruding out of its mouth over her neighborhood, probably over her house. "What do you have to say for yourself Rose? If not for you, your family would still be alive. Think about poor Mary, her future was so bright. And your mother, who raised you and your little sister. Your father, about to be promoted in work for his outstanding achievements. All of that wasted. For what? So you could spend the last moments of your life cowering before me?"

Still, she did not say anything. She didn't know who he was or what he was talking about, but he wish he would just kill her. She had no reason to live now. Her parents, her sister…

CRACK! The sound of displaced air startled both of them. People in billowing robes with wands appeared out of no-where. One of them grabbed Rose's arm and, with another loud crack, they were gone.

They appeared outside a dingy row of houses called Grimmauld Place. They were standing in front of the gap between 11 and 13. Her rescuer turned to Rose and handed her a slip of paper. "Memorize this." It read _#12 Grimmauld Place, London._ She looked up to ask him what it meant, and to her astonishment, there was a house standing in the gap between numbers 11 and 13. Her rescuer took the paper from her and burned it. Then he ushered her inside. "Molly, Molly dear," he called.

"Filth, blood-traitors! Scum of the wizarding world, how dare you befoul the house of Black…" The ratty curtains flew apart and behind the lay a portrait of an ugly old woman. Two teenagers came racing down the hall, a third one right behind them.

"Hi, Dad!" the boy with flaming hair said as he and the other boy struggled to pull the curtains shut. He was tall and gangly, is pants showing almost and inch of skin at the ankle. The other boy was shorter, and had jet-black hair.

"Hello boys. Look, is your mother here, Ron? We need to see her right away." Rose turned and saw her rescuer for the first time. He also had bright red hair, though he was starting to go bald. He looked very tired and worn, but friendly.

The girl looked at them curiously; blushing slightly after knocking over an ugly umbrella stand that looked like a hairy leg. She had wiry brown hair, and had the air of someone who knew a lot about the world. "She's in the drawing room, dealing with some more doxies. I'll go and get her if you like."

"No, no that's fine. Please, come with me, my dear," he was addressing Rose now. The three teen-agers looked at her curiously, but she was too numb to care. The man led her down a dismal hall. It looked as if someone had tried to make it more homey and cheerful, but the effect was that it looked even more dismal than ever. They went up some stairs and continued down yet another hallway. He tapped on a door, and walked in without waiting for an answer. "Molly?"

A short, plump woman, also with red hair, turned around as they entered. "Arthur, where have you… Oh my," she said, seeing Rose for the first time. As she took in her tear-stained face, her mussed up hair, and the deep scratches from where she had fallen. "Come here, dear. Let's get you fixed up."

The room she was taken to was clean, and smelled of fresh paint. It had no windows, but it did have three beds, and a cabinet, a sink, and a table. It looked as if it had been completely re-done, and looked much better then the rest of the house. Molly gently sat Rose down on a bed. Molly grabbed some things from the cabinet and rushed back to her. Rose barely noticed what she was doing.

"Here, drink this. It will make you sleep." Obediently, she drank. It tasted sweet, like honey and something else that she couldn't quite place. She lay back on the bed, and in no time, she was asleep.

_Her father, Jonathon, standing in the kitchen. "Get out of my house!" He yelled in distress. The tall skinny figure with glowing red eyes faced him, laughing insanely. Jonathon's wife lay dead in the corner, blood seeping from her still-warm body. Her glassy eyes stared up at him, endless pits of death. Her beautiful hair framed her face so perfectly…_

"_Avada Kedavra!" The man with red eyes shouted, a fierce glint making him appear even more insane. He laughed as Jonathon fell to the floor, staring at him. He walked slowly up stairs. "Rosy, Rosy my darling, where are you? You know you cannot hide from me. Come out, I promise I wont hurt you." He went into Mary's room. She was playing with her teddy bear, looking worried. She must have heard the voices down-stairs. She looked up at him fearfully._

_She was a pretty little thing, curly brown hair, and blue eyes that could melt your heart away. "Hello, little one. Where is your sister?" His voice scared her even more than his appearance. It was silky, smooth, malevolent. Evil. _

"_She's not here." The child's voice tremble when she spoke. "Where's daddy! I want Mommy! Daddy!" She started to wail, afraid of this man. _

"_Avada Kedavra!" The little child froze, her face tear-streaked. She would never laugh again at Rose's monkey face, nor cry for mommy when she had a boo-boo. Her life, short, was ended. She still clutched tightly to her teddy bear, her last friend. The figure smiled cruelly, and turned around and looked **straight at Rose.**_

"AHHHHHH!" Rose awoke to a loud scream. It went on and on, and then, she realized _she_ was the one screaming. The sound slowly died away.

Footsteps sounded outside, and she clutched the blankets to her in fear. Would it be the tall man with the glowing eyes? The door opened.

In came Mrs. Weasley, concern in her eyes. "My dear, what is it? Are you alright?" Rose shuddered, then nodded.

"Nothing. I'm, I'm fine. It, it was just a dream."


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, this is part two. I don't like it very much, I'll probably rewrite it. I have a not-quite-poem at the end, so even if you don't read the whole story, please read that.**

"Nothing. I'm, I'm fine. It, it was just a dream." Mrs. Weasley looked unconvinced, but decided not to press the matter.

"All right. If you're sure dear. I'll see you in the morning." Mrs. Weasley walked out the room, her slippered feet making soft swishing noises on the floor. Rose closed her eyes, trying not to think of the dream. Her parents were dead! Her sister…

The house was very quiet. She had expected to hear the door shut. She opened her eyes, and saw that Mrs. Weasley hadn't shut it. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and went to shut the door. It was just one of those strange quirks people have; she had to sleep with the door shut.

She paused, her hand on the doorknob. She heard voices in the hall.

"Ouch, Ron that was my foot!" Discreetly, she looked out into the hallway, but nothing was there. 'Crap, I forgot to take my schizo meds,' she thought jokingly, then stopped. She shouldn't be happy when her family was dead because of her!

"Well, sorry it's just a little bit difficult when you can't _see_ anything!" There it was again. Was this house haunted or was she just crazy? '_Probably just your mind in shock. Coping mechanisms, like you were learning about in Health last week,_' the dry voice in the back of her head said, that sounded exactly like her old nurse-maid when she was young.

"Would you two quit bickering? We're almost there," a third voice said. The hallway was too dark for Rose to see anything, but she heard someone trip (three someone's actually), and a muttered curse. "Oh, this is pointless. Lumos!" A… flashlight?… shone in the dark. It looked like the thing that the man had been holding on the bridge. '_A wand, you know that,_' her mind whispered, but as soon as she had thought that thought, it was gone like a wisp of smoke.

The light, from whatever source, showed the three teen-agers she had seen earlier sprawled on the floor.

"Ow, bloody hell Harry, that light's bright!" The red headed boy mumbled, covering his eyes. The boy with the taped glasses grinned at him.

"Uh, Ron, Harry, you can get off of me anytime now," the girl said, her voice somewhat muffled. The red-haired boy, Ron apparently, blushed crimson and helped her up. Harry shook his head, but neither of his friends noticed. "So are we going to find her or not?" The girl asked, dusting herself off and blushing slightly and not making eye contact with them. While they were talking, the short boy, obviously Harry, had looked up, seen Rose, and smiled.

"Hermione, I think she might have found us," he commented dryly. The other two glanced up, shocked. Ron brightened instantly though.

"Good, that saves us a lot of bloody work," He looked very happy that they didn't have to search dark hallways, tripping over each other in the dark. Hermione took matters into her own hands.

"Hi, I'm Hermione. Who are you?" She smiled.

"I'm Rose," she said quietly. After introductions were made, and they had all crowded into Roses tiny bedroom, there was an awkward silence. Rose looked curiously at Harry's wand, which he had forgotten to put away.

"Is that a wand?" she asked. She had seen them before, not just with the tall man with glowing eyes, (Rojo, as she had come to call him in her mind) but many times, though she couldn't quite place where.

"Yes." He looked surprised. If she were muggle born, then she wouldn't recognize it for what it was, and if she had been born into a wizarding family she wouldn't have to ask because she would know. "Why?" Rose shrugged.

"No reason. Where are we?" 'Who was the man with the glowing eyes?' she thought privately. The other three exchanged glances. Hermione and Ron looked uncomfortable. Silence reigned. Finally, Harry spoke.

"We're in my godfa… my house." Hermione shot him a sympathetic look. "So, do you go to Hogwarts?"

Hogwarts? Wait, I know that name. Mom mentioned it when I was little. But what is it? "No. What is it?" _You know what it is._ That same dry voice in her head said, but it didn't care to elaborate.

"You're a mug.." Ron stopped short, blushing the most astonishing shade of pink, all the way up to his ears. Rose looked at him expectantly. "Uh, uh," he stammered. "You're a, a.."

"How did you know what a wand was?" Harry asked her, throwing caution to the winds. This girl was really strange!

"I, I don't know!" Rose was becoming very upset. This was too much. Her family was dead, these people were asking her strange questions, she didn't know where she was, she had a language paper do tomorrow…

Everything came crashing down around her. The taps started running full blast. The bed sheets ripped off the beds and began whirling around the room. The feather beds started un-stuffing themselves, filling the air with feathers. The cabinet fell over with a loud CRASH! The bottles of potions began to shatter one by one.

Everyone was screaming. Rose was terrified. What was happening? It was just like in _Carrie, _with all the telekinesis stuff. Was this house haunted? What…

"STOP!"

**Okay, so this is just a not-quite-a-poem-but-close-enough thing that I wrote last night. I wrote it right before I went to bed and I gave myself nightmares. You know, one creepy thought leads to another and another, so there you go. I seriously creep myself out sometimes. Oh well. I got the idea from a picture. A gallows tree with a body on one side, a little girl swinging on the other. Anyway, here it is.**

Swinging on the hangman's tree

The child stares at the body

Wondering who it is

She sings a song and makes up a game

Dancing with the lifeless corpse

It's clammy rotted skin clasped in her hands

The song she sings becomes faster and faster

She no longer knows the words

Ghastly phrases beyond recognition

And the corpse is alive!

He takes her hands and swings her 'round

The child laughing, having the time of her life

As she looks up to its rotted eyes

She sees death, sorrow,

Crows pecking her eyes out

She's filled with terror,

She cannot stop

They are spinning faster, faster

And now it is not she who is laughing

But the corpse

Swinging on the hangman's tree

The child stares back at the body 

Her eyes plucked out,

Her hands rotted

He hums a song in rhythm

With her swaying corpse

Her body limp, neck broken,

Hanging from the noose


	3. Chapter 3

"STOP!" The tall man with a long, white flowing beard cried. He was dressed in violet robes with crimson outline. The room stopped shaking. The sheets fell lifeless to the floor. The feathers drifted slowly to the ground. Rose gave a small cry, and fell back on the bed, unconscious.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up from where they had huddled on the floor, in the tornado drill position. Hermione was shaking badly.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, my… Prof. Dumbledore, what happened? Is Rose alright?" She looked up at him with large brown eyes. Hermione had been through a lot of things since entering the wizarding world, but telekinesis was not one of them. It was so _real_ compared to everything else, so science fiction related that it was just a little hard to believe. The others stared at him hopefully.

"I do not know, my dear. I do not know. But I _do_ know, that you three should be in bed." He smiled kindly at them, ushering them out the door. "Molly, would you show these three to their rooms?" Mrs. Weasley had come running down the hall. When she saw the troublesome trio, she nodded at once, giving them a disapproving glare.

"What are you doing out of bed? Bothering poor Rose at this hour. She's been though a lot lately. She needs rest! Come now, back to bed with you." She shooed them back to their rooms, making them feel very much like chickens.

She came back into the room. Dumbledore was bending over Rose, checking her pulse. "Interesting. Very interesting." He lifted Rose back into her bed, with surprising strength for an ancient man. "Cleaniferous." (Okay, so I know that would never be a real spell. It sounds so cool though, doesn't it?) The sheets shook themselves out while the feathers zoomed back into their respective mattresses, and the potion bottles repaired themselves… and, well, you get the picture, don't you?

"Dumbledore, is she _the one_?" Mrs. Weasley asked, breathless. Rumors had been spreading for a long time but…

"We shall see. We shall see." The old man left the dismal house with a smile on his face and a spring in his step belonging to a much younger man.

(Sorry it's taken me so long – writer's block, time issues, etc.) _(Excuses only satisfy those who make them)_ (Yes _mom_. Wait, who are you?)

"Hey, Rose, time to get up!" Harry shouted through the door. Rose groaned.

"What the heck Harry, it's" she checked her digital clock, "6-fricking-30!" What was wrong with these people? She'd been there for practically three months and they still hadn't figured out that normal people liked to sleep in!

"Diagon Alley, remember? Come on, it'll be fun!" Why were these people so perky? In the three months since her telekinesis episode, everyone had pretty much forgotten about it. Rose was, apparently, a witch, and had spent a hell of a summer catching up with everyone. Once Harry, Ron, and Hermione had figured out that the ministry could only track _where_ magic was being done, and magic being done in a wizarding household was perfectly normal, they started using magic whenever the heck they wanted to. Okay, Harry and Ron used it whenever they wanted to, Hermione only used it when helping Rose learn or if she really, really needed to.

Dragging her feet and sighing heavily, Rose slowly got out of bed. She pulled on whatever clothes were in her drawer, some black jeans and a black T-shirt that read 'Life's a glitch, and so am I.' She and her muggle friends had made it up, it was the computer-geeks/modified version of 'life's a bitch and then you die.' Her hair was a mess, but so what? Nobody worthwhile actually cared.

She trudged down stairs and downed a can of Mt. Dew. After the caffeine had soaked into her bloodstream, she became much perkier herself. (Not scary perky like kindergarten teachers, awake/alive perky) Hermione came in, and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.

"They're almost ready to go, so we're supposed to hurry up," Hermione told her between bites of apples. Rose nodded, her mouth full of a banana she had found in the same bowl.

"So, what do we do there? Is it like a mall, or just a place to buy your school stuff?" She asked as they walked to the other side of the room where the fireplace was so conveniently located. Hermione was about to answer when Ron was shoved in, closely followed by Mrs. Weasley, who had hold of his scarlet ear.

"Ronald Weasley! What are you doing with those doxies!" Ron was blushing the most wonderful shade of maroon, which nicely matched is hand-woven socks that showed in the inch or so of skin that showed beneath his pants (Dumbledore's Christmas present! ). He mumbled something inaudible. Hermione, being the wonderfully kind person that she is, intervened.

"Mrs. Weasley, may we leave soon? We want to see Fred and George's shop before it gets too crowded." So finally, after everyone was down stairs, and all the doxies Mrs. Weasley could find on Ron, (Harry and Rose hadn't been searched…) were confiscated, they left for Diagon Alley. Rose didn't really understand floo powder, but it worked, so she wouldn't question it.

Rose discovered that she didn't like floo powder. It hurt! Falling flat on your face in a sooty fireplace is very memorable. After standing up and dusting herself off, she had a chance to take in her surroundings.

The Leaky Cauldron, or something like that, Harry had told her last night, was kind of a dingy place. All sorts of people, (and those who weren't exactly human people) were seated at the tables in the bar. An attractive blond boy stood over in the corner with two uh… thickset, to put it nicely, boys who had to weigh a ton. Another boy with dark hair stood with them. The blond had a contemptuous sneer on his face, looking over in the opposite corner. Following his gaze, she saw the Weasley's and went to join them.

"Oh Rose darling, there you are! We must've lost you in the crowd. Well, the others want to see the twins' joke shop so, we'll go there first and divide up from there." Harry, Ron, and Hermione were barely paying attention to her; they were watching the quartet in the corner. (That sounds cool. 'Quartet in the Corner' sings and dances around in circles)(_forgive her, she had Mt. Dew at lunch shudders)_

After they had left the bar, and their eyes had adjusted to the bright sunlight, they set of to Fred and George's shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Rose was, in short, in awe of their shop. It was rather small, and extremely crowded, but the things you could buy! Daydreams, skiving snackboxes, and more. It was extraordinary. (V is very very, Xtraordinary! E! is even more…) (_in fetal position, not the Mt. Dew!)_

Fred and George greeted them, wearing their magnificent magenta robes. "Hello, funder and friend, dear Harry, Ronykins! So good to see you! Mum, how are you? It's been too long!"

"Oh, George stop it! How is business?" Not waiting to hear the reply, the quartet snuck off to the corner, Ron grabbing items on the way. (I seem to like putting quartets in corners, don't I?)

"So where do we want to go today? Flourish and Blotts of course, we need are new text books, like _The Standard Book of Spells (Year 7), and_…" Hermione squinted down at her list, "_The International Guide to Advanced Self Defense_?" She blinked, looking up at them. "What in the world?"

"I wonder who our teacher is going to be? Now that Snivilly is on the run, we'll have someone new again. I tell ya, that job is cursed," Ron shook his head. "Something bad happens to all of them."

"Quirrel was killed, Lockhart lost his memory, oops, Lupin got sacked, Moody, imprisoned in his trunk…" Harry started.

"Umbridge, foul women, trampled by centaurs, not that she didn't deserve it, and Snape on the run from the law! Maybe it'll be… a goblin from Gringotts!" Ron proclaimed. They continued discussing who it would be as they walked, the replacement including Percy, Ron's Auntie Muriel, and other unlikely characters. (obviously, this is their 7th year, and Harry is going back to school)

"Why look, if it isn't Pot head, Weasel bee and the mudblood."


	4. Chapter 4

**sorry it took me so long!**

"Why look, if it isn't Pot head, Weasel bee and the mudblood." It was the same pale, blond boy from the pub, alone this time. "And who is this, some mudblood scum you picked up doing good things for Dumbledore?" Rose's hands clenched. Nobody called made fun of her friends, especially when the names were so stupid as that.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy? Your dear old mummy is probably looking for you." Harry replied, glaring at him with loathing.

"For your information, Potter, I don't need to come here with supervision. What are you doing near a _Quidditch_ store? Only people with talent go in there." Rose glanced at the shop next to them, Quality Quidditch Supplies. Not knowing – or at the moment caring – what Quidditch was, she retorted,

"How would you know that? You're obviously not good enough to go in there," she took a gamble, hoping he wasn't a good Quidditch player. Oops.

"You dirty little mudblood, you don't even know what Quidditch is." He was looking at her with dislike, though not as much as he did when he looked at Harry.

Hermione lost it. Dropping her bag of books from when they had stopped at Flourish and Blotts, she stepped forward and kicked him. Hard. Right in the…

"OW!" Malfoy howled, clutching the front of his pants, bending his knees. Ron and Harry looked at Hermione is a mixture of awe and horror. Rose started laughing her head off. Malfoy stood there, clutching his injured privates, moaning in pain. "Filthy mudblood! You'll pay for that!" he shouted as he hobbled away.

"That was brilliant Hermione!" Ron said, flinging his arms around her, then stopping suddenly and blushing, let go instantly.

"Hermione! That… was… perfect!" Rose gasped between bursts of laughter. "That… was… priceless! Oh, where was my camera!"

"Hermione… wow," was all Harry could bring himself to say. Hermione was blushing slightly. She picked up her books, suggesting that they move on. They did, though Rose still bust into random boughts of laughter and they had to stop walking until she regained her breath.

They headed back to the Leaky Cauldron, where they were staying the night. They dumped their stuff in their rooms, Hermione and Rose in one, Harry and Ron in another. Harry and Ron, procrastinators that they are, had to finish their homework before tomorrow when they left for Hogwarts. Hermione, being the wonderful person that she is, decided to help them, and Rose got dragged along so she could learn as well.

The next morning was sheer and utter chaos. (udders, like on cows, and cows make milk! I love milk!) _(Oh, god, here we go again. Where does she get the Mt. Dew!)_ (The theater…) Trunks were unpacked, scrolls of parchment left throughout their rooms, and numerous other articles of school supplies and clothing. After all of this had been found, packed, repacked, and approved of by Mrs. Weasley, they were on their way.

Kings Cross Station is an interesting place. I mean, lots of people, trains, luggage, it's just so fascinating! And don't forget the bathrooms! With the white walls and silver facets, wow… But the most normal and boring part is Platform 9 ¾. It's not very intriguing at all. You just lean against it and disappear to the other side. How boring is that? Everyone attending Hogwarts had to do this, including Rose. She, psycho freak that she is, found it rather interesting. (please tell me you got the sarcasm!) _(remember, the readers aren't your normal morons that you deal with everyday in school)_ (Thank gods!)

After finding a compartment, and stowing their stuff, the quartet began talking about random useful and unuseful things. Like stepstools, shish-ka-bob sticks, and peanut butter.

Rose really didn't know what to expect when arriving at Hogwarts, but this was definitely not it. And the horse-less carriages, those were just strange. She did get split up from Harry, Ron and Hermione when she had to be sorted though.

Standing with a bunch of first years makes you feel very tall. Rose was taller than average, and these midgets didn't even come up to her shoulders. It was very interesting.

Prof. McGonegall (Rose recognized her from Harry's description) led the first years and Rose into the Great Hall. Rose tried not to look too impressed by the floating candles and the ceiling that mirrored the sky outside. They all stood in a single-file line in front of a three-legged stool with a shabby hat on it. I mean really shabby. It had patches all over it, frayed edges, and just a few rips and gashes. The first year's jaws dropped when it started to sing.

(Okay, I really don't want to make up a song, so I'm not gonna. Deal with it if you wanted one.) _(That wasn't very nice)_ (I'm going on 2 hours of sleep! Gimme a break! I saw the HP4 premier, and I'm dead tired! Thank gods for Mt. Dew!) _(Moaning Myrtle doesn't know how to flirt)_ (LOL That part was _so_ funny!)

Once the song was over, Prof. McGonegall started calling names. Of course, being the oldest, she was the very last. Yes, they do it alphabetically, but since she's a seventh year, they just placed her at the end of the list. "Matthews, Rose." She walked forward to the stool. She put the hat on and sat down.

"_Hmm, interesting. You are going to be very difficult to place. You're smart enough to be in Ravenclaw, but so loyal that you ought to be in Gryffindor. But you are going through self-change right now. You will be very different a month from now. You have two paths to choose from. Both are very powerful destinies. You are now the one thing that shall tip the balance. You are not yet ready to be sorted Come back when you are ready."_ Rose sat there in shock. 'Oh my gods' she thought. Had she just been rejected by a _hat_? A _hat_ had told her that she was too emotionally insecure to be sorted into a house? Out loud, the sorting hat said, "Prof. Dumbledore, this student is not ready to be sorted. Bring her back to me when she is ready."

Everyone in the hall gasped in shock. Students were _always_ sorted. The hat was supposed to be able to tell what the student would change as he or she went along his school career. To not sort a student was, well, it was just not possible. And now the sorting hat was saying it wouldn't do it? Dumbledore stood up.

**yeah, I'm sorry it was so short, but I'm not even supposed to be _on_ the internet right now!**


End file.
